The Cat Than The Rat
It vanished into the storm drain. A big tom, black, half an ear missing. Then there was the other one, the tabby on the fence. The slender black cat slipping into the neighbor’s yard. Taken for granted, these cats, nobody’s cats. Quiet, not so much as a meow between them. People complained. They lowered the tone of the neighborhood. They tried to get rid of them, they trapped them, transported them to shelters. Put them in cages. With the storm drains empty, with not a whisker in the alleys, bad things happened. They let them go; for better in any day and time the cat than the rat.
Not Much Of A Horse
She wasn’t much of a horse. A scruffy little pony with a white snip and a bad attitude. Her tail had been roughly trimmed. She bit, kicked and struggled, trying to escape those who only meant her well. Yet when they groomed her, her coat gleamed red gold. Slowly, head bowed to bit and bridle. Slowly, the ears came from their permanent pin to flick forward. When her food was brought, she whickered. Yet when they rode her? Crash, heels up, head down, to toss them to the ground. Slowly, slowly she learned to tolerate their weight. Yet, when the jump was placed in her path, transformation. Ears pricked and neck arched, for this, this was a grand new game. In the end, the heels flicked again and again…until the judge called “Clear Round!”